


A Perfect Picture

by VivArney



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney





	A Perfect Picture

The squad room at the 101st Precinct was actually quiet for a change. Peter stood and stretched his long, lean body before he picked up a stack of completed case files and took them into Captain Karen Simms' office.

"Thank you, Peter. You might go check with Jody, she thinks she may have a lead on Victor Madison. Why don't you give her a hand with it?"

Peter nodded and went back into the squadroom. Obviously Karen Simms was in no mood for small talk and he knew better than to push her. He perched himself on the corner of Jody's desk. "The captain says you've got something on Madison," he said.

The pretty blonde looked up. "Nice outfit," she said, glancing up at the suit Peter wore.

"Thanks. Whatcha got?"

She held up a valet parking stub.

"Okay?"

She glared at him and turned it over. "Madison's license plate number."

Peter reached over and helped himself to a handful of malted milk balls from the bowl on her desk. "Stolen plates - Kermit and I ran 'em yesterday. They belong to a little old lady on Periwinkle Street named Gladys Terwillager. She makes great oatmeal cookies."

"And you two didn't tell me?"

"You don't like oatmeal cookies," he reminded her with a grin. He tossed one of the balls into the air, intending to catch it in his mouth, but Skalany caught it in mid-air and popped it into her own mouth.

"Peter Caine, you are a smartass," Jody said, snatching the bowl away before he could steal any more candy. "I thought I had a solid lead."

"So did Kermit and I," he agreed. "Look on the bright side, Jody."

"What bright side?"

"We saved your diet," he told her, leaping from the desk and heading for the exit before the female detective could throw something at him.

"Don't mind him, Jody," Mary Margaret advised. "He's full of it this morning."

The other detective glared at Peter's retreating back. "He's full of something, all right."

They turned as they heard a series of violent sneezes from behind Kermit's closed office door. The ex-mercenary had been the first person into the office that morning, but so far, no one had seen him.

"You think he's all right?" Jody asked worriedly.

Mary Margaret shrugged. "You want to go check on him?"

Jody held up her hands and shook her head. "Sorry, I hear he's a real bear when he's sick and I like living."

"His germs are probably classified anyway," Mary Margaret grinned.

"At least he's keeping them to himself," Jody said and giggled as her phone rang. "Detective Powell. What? Yeah, sure." She hung up the phone.

"What was all that about?" Mary Margaret asked.

Jody picked up a box of tissues from her desk and stood up.

"You wanna be back-up?"

Mary Margaret frowned. "Huh?"

"Come on." Jody walked to Kermit's closed door and looked over at her friend. "Ready?"

Mary Margaret put her hand on the doorknob and nodded.  
"Go!"

Skalany quickly opened the door, Jody tossed the box of tissues into the office and Mary Margaret pulled the door closed.

They heard a series of deep coughs from inside and a hoarse "Thank you!"

Jody went back to her desk and dialed Kermit's extension. "You sound awful. Are you sure you're all right?" she asked when he answered the phone with a raspy croak.

"Nothing a couple of days in bed wouldn't cure," he answered.

"Why aren't you there? Surely you've got enough sick leave piled up."

"Still working onna Badison case," he said and coughed again.

"Let Mary Margaret or me handle it."

"Wish I could, but I'm (cough) onto something."

"Well, hurry up and go home."

"Oh yeah," he rasped and hung up.

Peter returned and went directly to Kermit's office.

"I wouldn't, Peter," Mary Margaret warned.

He held up a bottle filled with a thick, blue-green liquid. "Shaolin Cold Medicine. Pop gave it to me this morning, but I forgot and left it in my car."

"Will it work?"

"If it's the same stuff Pop used to give me back at the temple, he'll be well in a week."

"Peter, all colds run their course in about a week," Mary Margaret reminded him.

He grinned. "Yeah, but with this stuff, you don't care."

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah." Peter opened the door and the women got their first look at the ailing ex-mercenary.

The end of his nose was beet red and his lips were chapped. He had removed the ever present green glasses and his eyes were bloodshot and watery. There was a slight flush to his skin. The waste basket was filled with tissues.

"I hope you don't feel as bad as you look," Mary Margaret said.

"Yeah, Kermit, you look a little green," Jody put in with a grin.

"You're too kide," he snarled. "Get in here and close the door, Peter."

Peter shrugged to the female officers and ducked inside  
Kermit's office. "If Captain Simms sees be in this condition, she'll send be home whether I'm fiddished with the Badison case, or not," Kermit complained. He sneezed and blew his nose loudly.

"Pop sent this over. It's... I guess you could call it Shaolin NyQuil."

Kermit took the bottle and peered at it. "How'd he doe I was... No, never mide, I don want to doe. Does it work?"

"Works great, but it's got a kick like a mule. You'd better be ready to hit the sack before you take it. You won't be able to drive home."

Kermit raised an eyebrow. "That good, huh?" He sat down as his computer made a soft chime. "Great. That's all I deed."

"What?"

"Oh, dothing. I just got busted for hacking into the Air Force database."

"Do they know how to find you?"

"No, I've got it re-routed through Scotland. They think they're after somebody damed Sirus McDougal in Edinburgh." He coughed deeply and Peter cringed.

"Look, why don't you go on home? Mary Margaret and I can finish up."

Kermit coughed again and Peter did not like the deep, liquid sound he heard.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better. Don't want to infect the whole Precinct. Course, Blake's got it coming." He sneezed again.

Peter grinned. At least Kermit's condition hadn't affected his sense of humor. "You want me to drive you home?"

Kermit shook his head then wavered dizzily. "Um, maybe you'd better."

There was an explosion of applause as Peter and Kermit left the squadroom. "I know when I'm not wanted," Kermit said in an exaggerated huff.

A series of "Get wells," "Feel betters," and a "Go home, you sicko!" followed them out the door.

Peter and Kermit went to Peter's Stealth and got in. Peter started the car and drove out of the parking garage. "I need to  
make a quick stop. You up to it?"

"As long as I don't have to get out of the car."

"You won't."

Peter stopped at a small grocery store and returned with a large sack.

"What's that?"

"Annie's patented cold diet: Chicken soup, orange juice, grapefruit juice, applesauce and green Jello. I have the feeling you won't be in the mood for much else for a few days."

Kermit grinned. "Thanks."

Peter started the car and drove to Kermit's apartment building. He insisted on going up to help Kermit put away the groceries before he reminded him of the dosage for the herbal cold medicine his father had sent and left.

Kermit picked up the bottle of medicine Caine had sent. He usually just took a few days off when he was sick, which wasn't often, and let whatever bug it was run its course, but he trusted Kwai Chang Caine. If he'd sent the medicine, he would take it.

Kermit made a face as he downed the medicine. Peter hadn't told him it would taste this bad. He opened one of the small containers of juice and drank deeply, then went into his bedroom, got undressed and climbed into bed. He was asleep within minutes.

[ [ [ [ [

Kermit woke in a sweat. He glanced at the alarm clock, surprised to see he'd slept almost ten hours. That stuff of Caine's was good! he thought as he coughed and slid out of bed.

He pulled on his robe and padded, barefoot, into the bathroom then the kitchen. He wasn't really hungry, but he'd promised Peter he'd at least try to eat some of the soup he'd brought.

He checked the labels - all chicken broth with noodles, rice, vegetables or, he grinned, stars and A B C s. He opened a can a random - it didn't really matter much, he couldn't taste anything at this point anyway - and poured it into a bowl, added water and stuck it in the microwave.

As he waited for the soup to heat, he pulled a small container of juice out of the refrigerator. He opened it and took a long swallow. The acidity of the orange juice burned his throat a little, but it was cold and felt wonderful going down.

Something brushed against his leg and he looked down to see a pair of bright green eyes staring up at him from a fuzzy face the color of marmalade. "So, where have you been?" he asked.

"Mirraa!"

"Okay, if you say so." He still felt a little silly talking to the small orange furball with the almond shaped green eyes, but, if the cat wanted to talk, it would be rude for him not to respond.

The cat was a fairly recent acquisition. Marilyn and her family had gone out to town for three weeks for vacation and Mitch had asked him to look after their grey tabby, Fred, while they were gone. He and Fred had gotten along well and after Mitch retrieved her cat, he'd found he'd missed the companionship.

His mother had always seemed to have cats around and he, Marilyn and David had slept with any number of felines over the years. His lifestyle hadn't allowed it before, but he decided to consider getting a cat.

Caine would have said it was something in his destiny, but one evening a few days later, he'd been coming home and found one of his neighbors, Rita Whitney, standing out in the   
corridor, her face wet with tears.

He'd stopped, concerned, and asked her what was wrong. It seemed that her three year old son was in the hospital and had been diagnosed with severe asthma and she had to find a new home for the family cat. He'd accompanied her to her apartment to meet Scooter.

The orange cat had been a little shy at first, but, after a few minutes spent talking and drinking coffee with Rita and her husband, Scooter had padded up to him and placed a paw on his forearm.

"You want to be friends?" he'd asked the cat in amusement.

"Mirraa," she'd said, locking her emerald colored eyes on his face.

That did it. He'd taken her home twenty minutes later, along with all the assorted paraphernalia Rita felt a cat required.

The microwave binged and he removed his soup. He grabbed the juice and a spoon and went into the livingroom. He sat the bowl and bottle down on the coffee table and picked up the remote control for the television.

He rarely watched television. He didn't usually have time and there was so much garbage on anyway that he'd even considered getting rid of it altogether, but tonight he was glad he hadn't. There were a few programs he enjoyed. Granted, nearly all of them were in reruns, but he'd missed a good many of them during his days as a mercenary so most of them were new to him.

He switched over to an old episode of Mission: Impossible - at least it wasn't that god-awful remake with Tom Cruise - and picked up his soup.

Scooter leapt up onto the sofa and patted his thigh. "Maa."

"No. Mine. Go get your own."

She hopped down off the black leather and raced into the kitchen where he could hear soft crunching sounds.

Kermit finished his soup and set the bowl back down. It had been good and hot, but he still felt cold. He got up, put his bowl and spoon in the sink, took another dose of Caine's cold medicine, pulled a blanket and pillow out of the hall closet and returned to the sofa. He pulled the blanket around him and laid down on the couch, pulling his feet up under the blanket's warmth.

A short time later, Scooter finished with her meal, leapt up onto the couch with him. She nosed around then began a leisurely bath. That done, she climbed onto Kermit's stomach and, purring softly, drifted off to sleep.

[ [ [ [ [

Kwai Chang Caine was already in the elevator of Kermit's apartment building when Karen Simms rushed in. She was carrying a large thermos and nearly dropped it when she spotted Caine.

"Oh! Good morning, Caine."

"Good morning," he replied. "You are coming to "check up" on Kermit?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Uh... Yes," she began. "Well, he looked so awful when Peter took him home yesterday that... Peter said he got Kermit some soup, but that was canned and I... I just wanted to bring him some homemade soup and make sure he's all right."

He nodded.

"All in friendship, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, smiling.

She stared up at him. "Why do I get the feeling you don't believe me?"

He cupped her face with his hands. "Karen, we are all aware of your feelings for Kermit and of his feelings for you. The others do not speak of it because of their great respect for you both. They wish the relationship to succeed. They wish you only happiness." He shrugged. "They also believe Kermit would retaliate if they made light of it," he added with a mischievous grin and lowered his hands.

She smiled. "They're probably right, but it's good to know they approve - not that it matters."

"Not that it matters," Caine repeated with a knowing smile.

The elevator doors opened and the two of them went to Kermit's door.

Simms raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. "I hadn't thought about that... What if he's sleeping? I don't want to disturb him; he needs the rest."

"He is sleeping," Caine confirmed. "But we will not disturb him."  
He raised a hand to the doorknob and she heard a soft click.

"What are you...?" she started. "Caine, that's breaking and entering!" she whispered as he slowly opened the door.

He put a finger to his lips, took the thermos from her hand and silently walked inside. She followed as far as the threshold and smiled at what she saw.

The television was on providing the only light in the otherwise darkened room. Kermit was lying on his side on the large sofa wrapped cozily in a large green blanket, sound asleep.

Karen studied the ex-mercenary's face from where she stood. He looked totally relaxed. He still appeared to be a little flushed, but he was definitely looking better than he had the day before. She glanced down his sleeping form to see an orange cat curled up on his hip and smiled. She nodded. "I didn't know he had a cat."

"Scooter is a recent arrival."

The cat lifted its head and blinked sleepily at them as Caine set the thermos gently onto the coffee table, then let out a loud, raspy purr as the Shambala Master returned to the door.

"I wish I had a camera," she said softly as Caine closed the door and relocked it.

Caine smiled. "Perhaps that image is better kept in your heart... I do not believe Kermit would be happy if others saw him as he is at this moment. It would... blow his cover."

She smiled again at the memory of Kermit's sleeping face and the cat curled up on his hip. "Big, bad mercenary, indeed," she muttered as they returned to the elevator.

"Indeed," Caine said with a smile.


End file.
